


Tell It to My Heart

by Miss_L



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut, newlyweds Wade and Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade and Peter get married. Eventually ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lafaiette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/gifts).



> ... a request of the combo of fluff and smut, which usually breaks my brain. So, if you don't hear from me again, my head has short-circuited ;)

“You know… Petey,” Wade huffed inbetween spidey-swings, “Our wedding would have been… Oomph! Much more romantic – ohmygawd, that is a tall building! – if we didn't have to go battle baaaaarghhhhh! Bad guys half-way the ceremony.”

“Well, at least we got to sign the register first.”

“True,” Wade conceded, wrapping his limbs tighter around his husband’s frame.

“Do you remember who had the rings?” he asked with sudden worry.

“Logan, I think.”

“That’s it, we’re never seeing them again!” Wade wailed in desperation.

“Isn't that a bit unfair?”

Between carrying Deadpool’s muscly bulk, swinging around town and shouting over his shoulder, Peter was getting tired already, and they were only half-way there. Somehow, he could never deny Wade the pleasure of conversation – not that he would stop talking otherwise, but especially today, Wade deserved attention.

“Petey,” Wade complained loudly, right next to the web-head’s ear, “If his claws weren't attached, he’d lose them, too!”

Spidey couldn’t actually disagree with that, so they spent the next couple of blocks in relative silence (Wade’s manly shrieks notwithstanding). There’s an expression about good things and never lasting, yes?

“And to think we could be having out wedding night right now,” Wade sighed dreamily.

“Wade,” Peter huffed, then concentrated on a particularly far-off building. _Nailed ittt!_ “Wade, it’s three in the afternoon.”

“That’s what drapes are for, sweetums. Just imagine-”

“I’d rather not,” Peter cut off, entirely out of breath and relieved to see their destination at last. “And that better be your _gun_ poking me in the back.”

“It is. I don’t get _excited_ about heights, if you know what I mean.” Peter could practically hear the wink in the merc’s voice.

As soon as they landed on the roof of an office building, Wade ran off towards the stairs, while Peter leaned his hand against a wall, bent over and tried desperately to catch his breath. When they were done here, he would need to have a serious discussion about weight-control if his husband were to ever ride him again. He smirked. _Heh, “ride”._ And people didn't believe they were perfect for each other! 

\---

By the time they came back to Stark Tower, it was evening. The little celebration of the newlyweds turned sour when an escaped villain got in and made Banner Hulk out right there. The fiend was apprehended almost immediately, but the cake was mush. Literally. Instead of throwing a tantrum, however, Wade just licked some frosting off Peter’s suit and complained that they had used too much lemon. 

The only upside of the day, in fact, was that Logan had managed _not_ to lose the rings. Only because he had given them to Clint for safekeeping, but that still warranted Wade kissing his big hairy mutant face and praising him for what he called “the best decision of Logan’s miserable life”. Wolverine would've probably ran Deadpool through with his claws for such familiarity if Peter wasn't watching. 

They were leaving on their honeymoon early next morning, but instead of sleeping, both men were frantically packing all night – Wade kept throwing weapons in his luggage and Peter kept taking them out. He had long since given up on lectures about airport security and holidays not being the right time for killing people. In the end, he webbed all of Wade’s toys securely to the ceiling, making the big man pout and almost break his neck trying to get them. In short, they barely made it to their flight in time, and for all his previous nagging to entice Peter to join the Mile High Club, Wade was snoring and drooling on his husband’s shoulder not five minutes after take-off.


	2. Chapter 2

Nineteen hours later, Messrs. Wilson-Parker finally arrived at their destination – Jaffna Lagoon on Sri Lanka. Considering their various healing factors, jet lag was not a problem, so the men started their holiday with a lovely lunch at the hotel and a healthy walk along the beach, complete with kissing and sand getting in places. The place was not popular among tourists this time of year, and the few locals the couple encountered were friendly, but didn't linger. Which was perfect, because Wade had finally agreed to wear something that covered only half his body and not his face – although his baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes.

It was starting to get dark when they finally walked back to the hotel.

“So…” Peter squeezed Wade’s hand and the scarred man looked up at him. If goo-goo eyes could melt people, the web-head would be a puddle of moisture on the ground now. “What do you want to eat?”

An evil smirk blossomed on Wade’s face. That was usually not a good sign. Then again, “good” was overrated. Unless it was Captain America.

“Not really hungry. For _food,”_ Wade answered lightly, walking resolutely past the bar and into the hallway, pulling Parker gently with him by the hand.

Peter smiled. Frankly, he was surprised his husband (oh, how he loved the sound of _that!)_ hadn't jumped him before.

“Same,” he agreed, and followed Wade towards their room.

\---

Peter walked in first and his shoulders tensed incrementally, expecting Wade to attack him and tackle them both to the bed the moment he had closed the door. No such thing happened. Instead, Wade’s calloused hands came to rest on his shoulders gently and he turned the young man around. The look in the taller man’s eyes was… Reverent. Like he still hadn't quite processed that Peter, of all people, had not only decided (probably in a moment of diminished responsibility) to hang out, make out and have sex with Deadpool, but subsequently dated the man for a year and a half, and then proposed to marry him. Yes, all of this was Peter’s idea. Except Sri Lanka – Wade was the bigger globetrotter of the two. 

Peter didn't think he would ever get used to the way Wade looked at him. Nor did he imagine the affectionate gaze would ever make him feel less than whole. For a clinically insane assassin with a short attention span and an even shorter temper, Wade Wilson had one hell of a romantic streak to him. His hands slid up Peter’s shoulders and neck to cup his face, sending shivers through the young man’s heated body. The Merc-With-a-for-Once-Quiet-Mouth took off his cap and kissed Peter. Really _kissed_ him. Tenderly, deeply, enveloping him with his arms and soul, making him feel safer than he ever felt before. 

As he responded in kind, wrapping his own lanky arms around a sturdy frame, Peter felt the familiar click – the first thing that had attracted him to Wade. Underneath his rough exterior and mental issues was a tender, albeit a somewhat broken and worn soul that resonated perfectly with Peter’s own. He had felt it the very first time they kissed – a connection, like two magnets might make. A little bit off-centre, but perfectly complementary. It had deepened as they spent more time together, and at this point, Parker couldn’t imagine himself without Wade. 

After what seemed an eternity of kissage and bliss, they broke apart and Wade smiled against Peter’s cheek.

“So, Mister Wilson,” he whispered sultrily, “How can I be of service to you today?”

How Wade managed to be tacky and seductive at the same time, Peter would never know. Right now, he didn't particularly care, because his husband’s words went straight to his cock, making his hips twitch involuntarily. Considering Wade’s evil smirk, he had noticed. Peter smiled, too.

“Well, Mister Parker,” he quipped, although it came out much more breathy than he had intended it to, “I’ll take anything you’re willing to give, really.”

Next thing he knew, Peter was being lifted up and thrown down on the bed. Wade landed gently on top of him, making both men giggle in anticipation. Peter looked into his lover’s baby blue eyes – well, “drowned” was a more apt description – and stroked his rough cheek. Wade squeezed his side and dove in for another hot and filthy kiss. What happened next was what always happened next: there were hands everywhere, and not enough friction, and too many clothes that had to be gotten off _right fucking now,_ and heat. This time, however, it seemed to happen in slow motion. The urgency was there, but the execution was more deliberate, more… Thoughtful. Savouring. As if this was their first time – and that is exactly what it felt like. But without the awkwardness and clumsy exploring of each other’s bodies. Rather, a reinvention of lovemaking, Spideypool style (Wade had come up with that ridiculous name. Something about tumblers and boats). It was hot, tender and _perfect._


	3. Chapter 3

Wade worshipped Peter’s body with his hands, his tongue, his very essence. The other replied in kind, marvelling at how many new snippets he managed to learn about his beloved every day they were together. There were more edges and angles to Wade than to a kaleidoscope, but they never cut or hurt Peter. Maybe it was because the web-head managed to mould himself around them, or perhaps Wade blunted them especially for him – or a weirdly fitting combination of the two. But whatever they did together, whether it was cooking, kicking ass or making love, the execution was perfectly coordinated. Even their flaws were weirdly complementary.

Peter flipped Wade onto his back and straddled the larger man’s hips. They were both rock-hard and absolutely desperate for release – after all this time, they still almost choked on their desire for each other – but they were determined to take this slow, even if it bloody well killed them. Peter kissed Wade’s mouth, then nibbled and licked softly a trail down his neck and bit hard on the juncture between his lover’s shoulder and neck – the resulting moan-shout was everything Peter had ever wanted in life. Wade’s hands were fluttering restlessly over the web-head’s back, wanting but unable to explore his entire body at once. His eyes were scrunched up in pleasure, but Peter knew that especially in those moments of passion, Wade’s head was painfully lucid. When they first began seeing each other, the merc was desperately scared to hurt the fragile-looking boy. He never did, but he never let go of control, either. Over time, Peter had learned to unravel that control as far as he could, every time a little more.

Wade finally settled on kneading the web-heads ass, pulling him incrementally closer with every fondle. Peter giggled against his scarred chest, blessing his own spidery flexibility, and flicked his tongue over Wade’s sensitive nipple, eliciting a full-body shudder. Then the other, at which point the merc started losing it. It was his turn to be on top. He landed perfectly between Peter’s legs, mirroring the other’s caresses on flawless white skin. He nibbled down to his boy- _husband’s_ heaving stomach, but ignored his twitching cock completely. Instead, he continued his exploration further, alternating sides as he bit and licked his hips, his legs, his thighs. He hitched one of Peter’s legs up and licked a ticklish stripe up to the back of his knee, then repeated the action for the other leg, a humorous gleam in his eyes at the boy’s giggles. The look in his eyes was still tender, but his smile turned wicked, and, without a warning, he gulped all of Peter’s hard length down in one smooth movement of tongue and slightly scraping teeth.

“Oooooooh…”

Wade’s mouth was a thing of perfect coordination, and not just when he was eating Mexican food like there was no tomorrow – and there was _always_ a tomorrow for him. But he knew exactly how Peter liked it, and seemed intent on getting the boy off as quickly and mind-shatteringly as possible. The perfect drag of tongue and lips – made better by the scars on them – not too much saliva, but not too dry, either. And the things his hands did to Peter’s balls… The web-head was certain he could write books on the stuff Wade could do with his hands – albeit not while he was doing them. The merc’s ministrations were speeding up, but Peter stopped him with shaking hands on uneven skin. He wanted to share this… Well, he supposed that, if they were being fluffy and cute about it, it could be called their “wedding night”. He didn't have to explain, Wade understood – Wade always did.

Blue eyes locked with brown ones – sky and earth, water and land – and Peter pulled his lover up by the neck. There was a slight hesitation on Wade’s expressive face, which Peter obviously noticed – when one got past the ever-shifting scars, the merc could be read as easily as a book for toddlers. The young man cocked his eyebrow questioningly, mesmerised by the way an adorable blush spread over muscled neck and shoulders. Wade coughed in embarrassment, making Peter more worried and intrigued by the second – there were not many things the psychopathic assassin was shy about, and Parker should _know._ Still, he waited patiently.

“Ummm, Petey… Could you, ummm…” Wade looked away and blurted out, “Could you do me, please?” 

He dared not look at his partner, but Peter put two fingers under his chin and turned his head gently. He did his best not to show surprise, instead smiling and nodding. Wade breathed out and kissed him again – hungrily, desperately, but gratefully. Thinking back, Peter realised that, while they have certainly done that before, it had usually either happened spontaneously, or he had been the one asking for Wade’s permission. And asking something for himself had never been the merc’s strong suit – he not only enjoyed giving more than receiving, but he also genuinely didn't think he deserved any pleasure. It made Peter’s heart clench to think about the loathing Wade felt towards himself and he hugged the big rock of muscle close.

They swapped positions again, Wade fidgeting and blushing as he lay there, open and vulnerable. Yet there was a look of infinite trust in his baby blues, and Peter felt pride swell in his chest at being the recipient of such faith. He moved slowly, butterfly-light touches and kisses until he felt Wade’s body relax under him. He sped up then, soft bites and near-bruising gropes – enough to get through the constant thrum of cancer pain, but not enough to really hurt his lover. Wade responded to every touch like a cello (although in his bulk, he certainly more resembled a contrabass), finely tuned and vocal. Peter nibbled on Wade’s hip while he searched the bedside table for lube blindly – exactly the reason why they put everything in place before – then moved to the other hip while he coated his fingers in the treacly liquid. Wade heard the click of the lid and bent his knees, giving Peter ready access. Still, the young man hesitated.

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, clean hand stroking heaving pectorals.

Wade seemed momentarily distracted by Peter’s slender and elegant cock, ready and leaking. It was more of a “wow, nice dick, all for me!” than a “shit, that’s never gonna fit in my ass” kind of look, however. Then he looked back at Peter's face and the sheer _need_ in his eyes was enough to burn down a city. Still, Parker waited. Wade swallowed, once.

“Yes,” he answered huskily.

Peter bent down, kissing his hotly while his fingers circled Wade’s entrance. Already, the muscled hips beneath his were buckling. Both men slowly breathed through their nose as one digit breached the merc’s tightness, Peter following and monitoring Wade’s sensations every step of the way. Elevated and hitching breathing, but no visible discomfort. Still, Peter was gentle and went slowly, even when Wade motioned for a second finger to be added. At this point, his famous Mouth had stopped working, and Peter didn't think he had ever witnessed that happen before the orgasm – perhaps he had finally relinquished control. Peter’s potential for thought was rapidly unravelling at this point, however, so he went on feeling and instinct instead. 

He added a second finger, soon after a third. He was contemplating a fourth, but decided to take pity on Wade’s mute pleas and retracted his digits, replacing them with his eager cock. _Too slow,_ Wade mouthed, and pulled him in all the way, earning himself a shiver that started at his groin and ended in his neck, exiting his mouth in the most erotic sound Peter had ever had the pleasure of hearing. Slow, rhythmic trusts were soon followed by hard and fast ones, but never once passing the boundaries of Wade’s trust. The merc’s legs were wrapping tighter around Peter’s hips as the web-head snaked his arms around his partner’s frame – so alive and full to the brim of love – and pulled them flush, and closer still until they were undistinguishable, a large mass of bone and muscle and flesh moving in perfect unison. Wade’s cock felt hard and wet and beautiful against Peter’s stomach, and the humid and hot slide of bodies was enough to make the youngster come, but he was waiting for that hitch in his husband’s voice – followed by a sweet and hot orgasm that always had Wade shout himself hoarse.

Peter held Wade through the aftershocks, then finally let go, filling his partner, Wade’s contracting muscles milking every last drop from him, relishing the feeling of fullness. Some primal part of Peter loved claiming his lover thus. He flopped softly on top of Wade, the other man’s legs preventing him from pulling out just yet. They panted and giggled together, breathless and content, revelling in each other’s warmth and affection. Peter kissed Wade’s chest and looked him in the eye.

“Are you alright?” he managed to rasp – apparently, he had been shouting, too. “I… Didn't hurt you, did I?”

Wade could only shake his head with a huge grin on his face, pulling Peter impossibly closer and sighing contentedly against his temple. He closed his eyes sleepily and hummed some tune. Cleaning up could wait, Peter thought and nuzzled his lover’s – his husband’s – cheek. The whole fucking world could wait. This was theirs.


End file.
